She showed me the photos. Military. Family. I didn't feel anything. The people in the photo. I knew the young man had to be me, but the girl. I remembered her yes, but I still didn't feel anything. At all. That's when Harley pulled out the crime scene photos. The girl covered in blood. The child drowned. The case never solved. I felt something like a prick. I would never admit to you that, but hey, this is just my brain talking to itself, nobody's going to know. I felt suddenly, different. But Harley wouldn't know it. I pushed the button. I didn't want to look at those photos. I didn't want to remember. Being just a non-existant freak had worked up to now. Why change history? Why find out who this Jack Mitchell was. Maybe I don't want to know.

"You're gonna regret that Har," I murmured threateningly.

"You don't scare me, Jacks." I lunged at her. Oh, the nerve of that girl. To think that PHOTOS would make me remember. I didn't know why I leathally felt like going for her. Accusing her of killing the girl for no reason. I've blown up hospitals, for goshsakes. I'm a killer. I'm not supposed to have feelings. You think you can recreate me life for me, Harley? Not going to happen. I've recreated myself so many times even I don't remember. I just remember the first time I killed wasn't in hate. It was out of self-defense. And I don't need to remember anything else. I don't want to remember anything else. Don't you get it? That's the joke of it all. The joke is my middle name. Nothing else. I just came to being after one bad day. Since it drove me crazy, I really don't want to remember what it was. Who knows what that would do to me. And despite all my threats, I don't want to die. There are times the joke should end, yes. But I don't want to die.

I'd rather have a muliple choice past. Be able to pick and choose why I've got these scars. Or why I'm so crazy.

It just was so funny. A reformed killer tries to reform the psycho with PHOTOS? The whole thing was hilarious.

But I must be lying to myself. I feel like somebody stirred the soup wrong and turned my head upside down or something.

I hope I don't have another breakdown. Last time I don't remember how I got out of Arkham. Somebody pried too much. I just remember that there was blood on my prisoner's uniform. Everywhere....